


the knot

by brietopia



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Callie wants to get laid, F/M, First Time, Missing Scene, Profanity, Theron loves his wife a lot, Vaginal Fingering, but nothing explicit, consensual sex because of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28488216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brietopia/pseuds/brietopia
Summary: Caldis and Theron take their relationship to the next level.
Relationships: Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Theron Shan
Kudos: 10





	the knot

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this fic on and off for years and finally decided to finish it. 2020 was hellish, and we all deserve some Callie/Theron smut. please enjoy this slightly crack-ish interpretation of Callie and Theron's first time, set post-Onslaught, complete with fade-to-blacks because I am still a recovering evangelical :~)

The first time Caldis mentioned sex, Theron thought she was drunk.

It was the night of the party Caldis threw for Kira and Scourge. Lana was invited, and Theron, of course, and the rest of the _Defender_ ’s crew. She wanted to keep it small, which is to say she wanted to be, for the first time in a long while, Callie.

“I think we should have sex,” Caldis said.

Theron looked at her for a long moment. “How many Sunsets did you have?”

“Just one,” Caldis said, with all the sluggishness of someone who had, in fact, one too many. “I’m serious, Theron.”

“Did Rhyss put you up to this?”

The Sunsets made it difficult to think. All Caldis knew was the line of Theron’s collarbone, brown and beautiful. She didn’t know how to tell him that, yes, maybe Rhyss _did_ have something to do with it. But that didn’t make her sudden desire to sleep with her husband any less legitimate. It was the culmination of years of work on Caldis’ part. Years of wanting Theron that were just as mottled by her fear of sex. What did it matter if Rhyss talked her through paralyzing anxieties that were miraculously soothed by alcohol?

“I want you,” said Caldis pitifully. “I’ve wanted you for years, and—”

Something always stopped her. First, it was the general ambiguity of bodies and pleasure. Then it was the Order, their teachings on attachment, love and possession and the murk between. By the time she met Theron, Caldis was convinced that maybe, just maybe, the Jedi didn’t know everything. Theron kissed her on Yavin, and Caldis thought, very dimly, that she should probably tell him that she was a Force-sensitive virgin.

Then Revan. Ziost. Arcann, Zakuul. It was never the right time, not with Valkorion in her head, Kira gone. Part of her would always be a Jedi. Part of her would always look at Theron and think that, if she wasn’t careful, the Dark Side would swallow her whole.

Then Theron left. She dreamed of Umbara, the train, his face bled through. She dreamed of Theron above her, knees squeezing her hips. He kissed her collarbone. Her sternum. The skin of her nave. When his mouth found the apex of her thighs, Caldis moaned so loud she woke herself up, heart pounding, sheets damp with sweat.

 _It was a sex dream_ , said Rhyss.

_A what now?_

_A sex dream_ , said Rhyss again. _You know._

_I know what…_

_Sex dreams_ , supplied Rhyss.

 _Yes. Those. I know what…_ they _are._

_So what’s the problem?_

_I’m a Jedi_ , Caldis said, louder than she meant to. Word travels fast on Odessen. _I’m a Jedi, Rhyss. I’m not supposed to… feel… things… like this, especially not for someone who tried to kill me._

Rhyss shrugged. _It’s kind of kinky when you think about it._

“I want you,” said Caldis, lifting her chin. “I’ve wanted you for years, Theron, and I was too scared to admit it, but—”

She didn’t know how to describe it. Only that, with Kira back, and the Alliance officially an independent power, she felt she could finally take that step. What did it matter if Caldis needed some liquid courage?

“I think I’m finally—”

Theron kissed her brow so gently that Caldis could’ve cried.

“I just want to get it over with. Which, like, isn’t the best mindset to have when it comes to—” Sleeping with your husband for the first time, who has waited for years with no indication that things would ever change on that front. “—things like this, but you know me. I’m going to obsess no matter what! And, y’know, your first time is never great, so I feel like it’ll be better for both of us if we stop treating it like some magical thing and—”

In hindsight, she really shouldn’t have compared sex to ripping off a bandage.

“Callie,” Theron said.

“Mm.”

“You’re rambling.”

Caldis huffed. “Sleep with me, Theron.”

“Not until you’re sober.”

“How many times do I have to—”

Theron grabbed her shoulders, guiding her towards the bed. If Caldis tripped, it definitely wasn’t because she had one too many Sunsets.

He undressed her. Hid his smile against the crook of her throat when Caldis tried to kiss him. Laughed when Caldis straddled him, sloppily, bracing herself with a hand by his head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this drunk,” said Theron with a smirk.

“I’m celebrating!”

“Right.”

“Kira’s back! And the Alliance has officially cut ties with the Republic! And—”

Really, what Caldis wanted to say was that, after years of resenting the Order, she was finally free of the Jedi. But before she could, Theron flipped them, pulling a squeak from Caldis, a petulant kick.

“I never thought I’d say this, Theron, but you’re being entirely too honorable.”

Theron sniffed. “That’s a terrible thing to say to a man.”

They both knew that, if push came to shove, Caldis could easily overpower him. But it was a strange, bewitching thing to lie beneath him, his warm, hard body. She didn’t want to move.

“It seems,” huffed Caldis, “we’ve reached an impasse.”

“We’ve reached the point where inebriated Jedi princesses—”

“I’m not a princess!”

“—succumb to—”

“Seriously?”

“—the wisdom of their—”

“Oh, shut—”

“Husbands,” Theron finished, “and go to sleep.”

She woke the next morning hungover and put-out. To Theron’s credit, he didn’t mention it once.

* * *

The following day was an exercise in learning that, when inebriated, Caldis is incapable of keeping her mouth shut.

“So?” Vette asked, cornering her outside the hangar bay.

Caldis winced. Her eyes were dry, irritated. The base was ripe with sound, terrible and sharp, a vibroblade to her skull. “So?”

“How was it?”

“How was what?”

Vette clutched her arm. “Sex with Theron!”

Hylo grinned, Gault clapped her on the shoulder, and Doc—Doc pestered her, unapologetically, until Caldis snapped, “I didn’t sleep with him!”

Doc sighed. “Cold feet, huh?”

“No! Look, it’s—”

“Did you say what I told you to say?”

Caldis winced. Again. “I asked you for advice?”

“We spent at least an hour brainstorming one-liners,” said Doc, with the offense of someone who believed his words were worth their weight in Cartel gold.

To Caldis’ relief, Lana held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“There’s nothing to hear,” Caldis said, collapsing into a chair. Her head was pounding. Why didn’t Rhyss warn her about the hangover? “Nothing happened.”

Lana nodded. Pecked at her datapad, for a minute, before saying, “Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“As in—”

“He thought I was drunk—”

“You were.”

“—and put me to bed.” Caldis made a face. “Literally.”

Min didn’t even have to consult their star charts. “He knows how important this is to you.”

Caldis groaned. Shifted her weight, dropping out of Juyo, returning to Shii-Cho. “I don’t want it to be important.”

“But it is,” Min said, cross-legged on the floor. “Sex is important to a lot of people.”

“Especially Jedi,” added Rhyss.

“But I’m not a Jedi anymore.” Caldis dogged Rhyss’ attack, making a grab for the Mirialan’s boxing glove. “That’s the whole point of this. I turned down the Republic’s offer. I stepped back from the Order. I should be—”

Rhyss came at her with a right hook. Caldis leaned back, slipping into Djem So. Her hands ached for the solidity of a training staff, the weight of a saber hilt.

“Healing doesn’t happen overnight,” Min said.

Healing happens in the alleys of Nar Shaddaa. Healing happens on Alderaan, Carrick Station, the shadows of Mek-Sha. Her body remembered Scourge’s feint. Knew, somehow, in the heat of battle, that a masked stranger did not mean to harm her.

“Theron knows you, Callie.” Rhyss leaped out of Caldis’ reach, spinning around her, planets in a volatile orbit. “You don’t have to put on a front with him. Not like you do with everyone else.”

“But I’m not,” said Caldis. The Force pulsed in her, hot to the touch, burning like the sun. “I’m never going to be ready. Not really. I’m never not going to be a complete mess when it comes to—” Sex. Attachment. Everything the Jedi stole from her. “—things like this, which is why I want to get it out of the way.”

Rhyss and Min exchanged a glance.

“We hear you,” Min said. “We do. It’s just—”

“We want to make sure you actually want this,” Rhyss added.

She wants Theron. That’s always been true.

“I want to have sex with my husband.” Caldis’ voice shook, but her movements were fluid. “And I don’t want to feel bad about it. I don’t want to feel like I’ve let Orgus down, or Kira or Satele or—”

“Why would you be letting Kira down?” Min asked.

“She’s my padawan.” Rhyss stepped back. Soresu? Some sort of defensive stance. Caldis took advantage, hooking her arm around Rhyss’ neck, pulling her to the ground. “I’m supposed to be her—”

“If you say role model,” Rhyss grunted, arching against the mat, trying to throw Caldis off balance, “I’m gonna—”

“Attachment leads to the Dark Side! And look at me. One of my best friends is Sith. I’ve turned down every invitation to join the Republic, I’ve eschewed the Jedi—”

“ _Eschewed_ ,” Rhyss echoed, mocking.

“I care too much about everything, and I’m married. Married! I’m in love! I would die for Theron! I would kill for him! Do you know how dangerous love is? Love is obsession! Possession!”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Min offered.

Rhyss wheezed, limp in Caldis’ grasp. “That’s how the Jedi work. They make you think you can’t trust yourself.”

Caldis heard her heartbeat, twinning Rhyss’ pulse, a frenzied echo. She felt it through the Force, a thousand tiny vibrations, crashing into one another.

She let Rhyss go.

* * *

In the end, it was Kira who broached the subject.

“I would accuse you of stalking me,” she said, leaning against a training dummy. “But I recognize the look on your face.”

Caldis blinked at the staff in her hand. Rough wood, hewn from Odessen foliage. Nothing like the smooth metal of her saber hilt. Caldis picked at a splinter, the flesh pink and raw, trying not to seem like she’d been shadowing Kira all morning.

Instead, Caldis asked, “What look?”

“You’ve been practicing Ataru for hours.” Kira quirked a brow, reaching for a bottle of water. “You hate Ataru.”

“I don’t—”

“Which means you’re stuck in your head,” Kira continued, uncapping the bottle. “Which means you’re psyching yourself up for something.”

“How do you—”

“No one’s here but me.” Kira took a swig. “So have at it.”

Caldis opened her mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. The splinter burned at the center of her palm, throbbing at the edges of her awareness. It was easier before. On the _Defender_ , with nothing between them but star-studded sky. Now there’s marriage and missing time and dust on the copilot’s chair, because no one was allowed to sit there, not even Theron.

It was easier when they were Jedi. Caldis knew who she was, which is to say Kira’s master, a person with a purpose. Battlemaster of the Order, with everything that entailed, rules and regulations and the honorifics that came with defending the Republic. Now she’s Callie—Outlander, Commander of the Eternal Alliance, wife and friend and everything she was taught to dread.

“We haven’t really talked,” said Caldis finally. “Since you got back.”

Kira shrugged. It struck Caldis as familiar, painfully so, something she did on Tython or Alderaan or the walkways of Dromund Kaas, slick with rain. “What’s there to talk about?”

War and betrayal and ships in the Unknown Regions, civilizations that predated the Republic. Valkorion. His voice in her head, his presence, constant and consuming and a curse that no one understood, no one but Kira.

“A lot has changed,” Caldis said.

Kira snorted, and that, too, was familiar, a sputtering spark of light. “You can say that again.”

It wasn’t entirely true. They’d talked plenty, her and Kira—Zakuul, Vaylin, the Scions and their prophecies. Five years in carbonite. Death tolls and Star Fortresses. Satele and Marr, the light and the dark and the questions between. How did she find T7? Did Doc look older, or was it a trick of the light? Did she really trust Arcann?

Even Theron. _I guess he found you_ , Kira had said, propping her feet on the console. The _Defender_ hummed around them, drifting through orbit, caught in the gravity of Odessen.

 _Yeah_ , Caldis had said, thinking of ceremonies on Nar Shaddaa. _He did._

But she never mentioned the ring on her finger, or the quarters she shared with Theron. It was never the right time. There were treaties to oversee, clans to protect, memories to relive in moments of quiet. She was still Caldis, Battlemaster of the Jedi Order, hero and heretic.

Kira sighed, pushing herself to her feet. “Listen, Master—”

“Callie.”

“Callie,” corrected Kira. “Is this about Theron?”

It wasn’t Theron so much as it was sex, attachment, everything the Jedi stole from her. Caldis winced.

Kira grabbed a towel off the bench. Wiped her face, shiny with sweat. Caldis squeezed the staff until her knuckles ached, palms pulsing.

“Are you happy?”

“Happy?” echoed Caldis.

“With Theron.”

“Oh,” said Caldis, thinking of ceremonies on Nar Shaddaa. Kisses on Yavin, the _Gravestone_ , an empty war room. Nathema, Theron bloody and bruised, heart pounding in her ears. “Yes.”

“Well,” Kira said, collapsing onto the bench with a small huff. “You look happy.”

Caldis swallowed. Squeezed the staff again. Glanced at the ring on her finger—a thin, simple band, set with specks of gold. “I do?”

“You have some color to you,” Kira said. “Which, let’s face it, is no small feat.”

She could’ve blamed it on Dantooine. Trips to Coruscant, the sun beating down on newly-forged glass. But that would’ve been a lie, and Caldis was tired of pretending.

“We go on picnics,” Caldis said, sitting next to Kira. “Not very often. But Theron is set on vacations, and Odessen has some nice valleys. Streams in the shade.” The hill where he proposed: a green slope of grass. “I kept getting sunburned, so Theron got me some Oggurobb-approved sunscreen. Works wonders.”

The staff rested on her knees, precariously balanced, shifting with every breath. Caldis thumbed a notch in the wood, trying to breathe, to invoke the version of herself that slew tyrants, toppled empires, rose from the ashes of a scorched planet.

“I love him,” said Caldis.

“I should hope so,” said Kira.

“I love him,” said Caldis again. “So I married him. And I know that goes against everything I taught you, but—”

“Callie.”

“I’m trying to be a good master here, and just because things have changed—”

“Callie.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t—”

“Callie,” said Kira softly.

“I don’t want to disappoint you.” She was Caldis—Battlemaster of the Jedi Order, Commander of the Eternal Alliance, hero and heretic and, somewhere in there, padawan and master and hoping beyond hope that Kira would forgive her. “I’m not the Jedi you met on Tython. I am, but I’m not, and I don’t want to be the reason you leave the Order, or give up on the Force, or—”

Kira barked a laugh. “Are you kidding?”

Caldis, who was incapable of kidding, blinked hard.

“You weren’t there for the slaughter.” The words were clumsy, blunt, in Kira’s mouth. “The Republic fell faster than any of us anticipated. People were dying left and right, and the Jedi—” A pause. Her jaw ticked, nostrils flaring. “It was the Mandalorian Wars all over again. They sat and watched and did nothing. And no one said a word.”

Caldis heard herself say, “No one but you.”

“They didn’t listen.”

“Not even Satele?”

Kira shook her head.

“So you left?”

“I still thought of myself as a Jedi,” Kira said. “Just…”

“A rogue one.”

Kira sighed. Shrugged. Shoved a hand through her hair, looking past the line of training dummies at the floor mats, the shelves of electrostaffs, holocrons twinkling like far-flung stars.

“You grow up seeing things in black and white,” said Kira finally. “And no one ever tells you that most of the galaxy is painted in shades of gray.”

Caldis thought of Lana. Scourge. Valkorion in her head, taunting her with power, strength, a chance to protect the people she loved.

“The Council thought I fell,” Kira added. “Scourge’s doing.”

“Bad influence,” said Caldis.

“Exactly,” said Kira. “I was angry for the longest time. But then I thought of you. What you would do in my situation. And I realized that it wasn’t the end of the world. I would find my footing again, just like you did. So I kept going.”

Caldis sighed, resting her head on Kira’s shoulder.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is I’ve changed, too.” Kira laughed, soft and quiet. “For the better. And it never would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown me that change was possible. So I’m not disappointed.”

Caldis opened her mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. “Even though I’m married?”

“Even though you’re married.” Caldis could hear the smile in Kira’s voice. “Honestly, I’m just surprised that Shan had the guts to propose.”

“Well,” said Caldis, drawing out the vowels. “Technically, it was my idea.”

Kira snorted. “Figures.”

Her palm pulsed with heat. Caldis thumbed the skin, raised and irritated, tender to the touch. “I wanted you to be there,” Caldis said after a moment. “At the wedding.”

“Well,” Kira sighed, leaning her head against Caldis. “Hopefully it’s not too late to give you my blessing.”

* * *

Theron finds her half-dressed and surrounded by candles.

“Theron,” yelps Caldis, twirling to face him. “You weren’t supposed to be here for another hour! What’s… where’s Tee—”

“Hey, whoa, you’re going to—” Theron lurches forward, grabbing her skirt. “You’re going to set yourself on fire.”

Caldis looks down. The gauze of her dress, dangerously close to a candle.

“What’s with the outfit?” Theron asks, kicking the fabric to one side. “And why the candles? Did I—” A pause. He pales. “Did I forget an anniversary or something?”

“What? No.” It occurs to her, then, that she’s topless and barefoot in front of her very handsome husband. Caldis flushes, shuffling around him to shut—and lock—the door. “I thought you were in a briefing.”

“I was,” says Theron slowly. “Got out early.”

Caldis groans, leaning her head against the door.

“Okay, but really. What am I missing?”

Caldis had a plan. A juvenile plan, to be fair, but a plan nonetheless. Rhyss scoffed at the idea, but Min commended Caldis on her dedication. Theron would see the gesture for what it was, and everything would be fine, and there was no reason for Caldis to freak out, no reason at all, because Theron loved her and, at the end of the day, love was all that mattered.

 _Right?_ asked Caldis. _Love is all that matters._

 _Absolutely_ , said Min.

Rhyss grunted in halfhearted agreement.

“I was going to seduce you.” Caldis fights the urge to stamp her foot. “I know you like this dress, so I thought, hey, may as well bring out of retirement, you only have sex for the first time once—”

“Seduce?” echoes Theron from somewhere behind her.

“The candles were Doc’s idea. Lana said you’d be in meetings all day, so I took the afternoon to decorate because, y’know, first time—”

“Wait,” says Theron, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Callie, look at me.”

The dress was supposed to give her confidence. But she’s half-naked, and Theron’s hand is warm against the bare skin of her shoulder, and the last thing Caldis wants is to look her very handsome husband in the eye.

“I had a plan.” Theron tugs her arm, and Caldis turns, huffing petulantly. “Teeseven said he’d keep watch, but—”

“He’s right outside the door.”

“And he let you in?” asks Caldis.

“He didn’t say anything,” says Theron. “Will you at least look at me?”

Caldis huffs, looking at something over his shoulder. Anything to distract her from the look on Theron’s face, fond and familiar, quietly amused.

“Callie.” His voice is soft. Warm. “C’mon.”

“It was a good plan,” says Caldis pitifully, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s topless and barefoot and shivering already, skin rising in goosebumps. It doesn’t help that Theron keeps glancing at her—

“I’m sure it was.”

“I didn’t mean to set myself on fire.”

Theron laughs. “You’re serious about this.”

“Sex?” It comes out wobbly. Caldis lifts her chin. “Yes.”

She was going to surprise him. Initiate the moment he stepped through the door, before she had the chance to overthink like she always does, like she is right—

Theron steps closer. Cups her cheek, pulling a sound from her, soft and breathy. “Are you sure?”

Sure of what? That she loves him? That she trusts him more than anything? That she wants to give him this, even if it’s terrifying, even if it feels like the Dark Side will swallow her—

“Callie.”

“I’m sure.” He’s so warm. Caldis hums, turning her head to nuzzle his palm. “I love you. And I want you. And I promise I’m not drunk.”

There’s silence for a moment, broken by their breaths. She can feel him through the Force, blush red and exposed to her, raw as a wound. It’s unbearable. How is she supposed to survive this? Wars she can handle. Torture, imprisonment, Scions and omens and the jolt of electrocuffs, burning her wrists. But sex with her husband?

Caldis breathes his name. “Please.”

He kisses her. And it’s gentle and familiar and everything she’s wanted since the party. Caldis moves to the tips of her toes, forgetting to be shy. He hums in encouragement, so she parts her lips, pressing against him.

Then he pulls back, and she’s pouting, because she’s topless and barefoot and really just dying to get this show on the road.

“Easy.” Theron chuckles, pecking the corner of her mouth. “There’s no rush.”

Caldis is inclined to disagree. How long have they known each other? For that matter, how long have they shared a bed? How long has Caldis looked at Theron and thought, with a surprising amount of clarity, that she was his, and he was hers, and maybe, just maybe, the galaxy wouldn’t implode if she gave into the bottomless warmth of what they felt for each other?

“Theron,” huffs Caldis, craning her neck to kiss his lower lip. “I want you.”

He kisses her again, hot and heavy, tangling a hand in her hair. Caldis surges into it, slipping her hand beneath his shirt to palm his abdomen. When Theron pulls back, panting harshly against her mouth, his lips are parted and glistening.

“Callie…”

Caldis ignores him, tugging his shirt, the denim of his vest. She wants him. They’ve waited long enough, and they deserve it, don’t they? After everything they’ve been through? Wars and betrayal, Scions and omens, fear of the Dark Side—

“Callie,” says Theron again, cupping her cheeks. “Look at me.”

His hands are shaking. Caldis sighs, leaning into the touch.

“I have two conditions.” Theron tilts her head up. Thumbs her cheek, the skin at her temple, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. “One. You tell me if you need a break. If I’m going too fast, or you’re uncomfortable, or—”

“Deal.” Caldis says it without thinking, blinking at his mouth, blurry from her kisses. “What’s number two?”

Her heart is pounding. The Force pulses around them, a writhing knot of want, drawing them closer, closer—

“Two.” Theron leans closer. Drags his palm down, down, from her jaw to her collarbone to the subtle swell of her rib cage. Caldis swallows. Tracks the path of his hand, feeling her muscles clench, her body twitch and quiver. “You let me take the lead.”

Despite everything, Caldis laughs.

“I mean it.” His fingers find her hip bone. The skin of her thigh, warm to the touch, soft and supple. “Tonight is about you.”

“But—” His hand slips between her legs. Caldis gasps, a heady sound, reaching up to clutch his shoulder. “ _Theron._ ”

“It’s your first time.” Theron steps forward, pressing her against the door. He’s warm and hard and Caldis whines, arching against him. If their hips align, it’s purely coincidental. “I want to make you feel good. And I don’t want you to worry about what you’re doing, or—”

His fingers curl, teasing the apex of her thighs. When he grazes her underwear, nails blunt, a jolt goes through her: a single spark of heat.

“Fuck.” She’s not sure who said it. Maybe they both did. “You’re wet already.”

Another scrape. Her hips roll forward, seeking his hand, the friction that comes from grinding against him. “Well,” says Caldis finally, voice wrecked. “I want you.”

She wants him inside her, to be precise. But some things are better left unsaid.

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” Theron murmurs, dipping his head to kiss her throat. Lingering, open-mouthed kisses, with just a touch of teeth.

“I’ll always—” His fingers slip beneath her underwear. Caldis whimpers, teeth sinking into her lower lip. “You’re my husband. I’ll never not worry about you.”

She’s his, and he’s hers, and maybe she does want him inside her, but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy himself, too.

Theron lifts his head, eyes darting between hers. It’s difficult to focus on anything that isn’t his fingers, stroking and soothing and—

“I know.”

He kisses her, and it’s soft, subdued, even as his fingers scrape and smooth. Caldis leans into it, breath hitching. His free hand flutters up to frame her cheek, brushing his knuckles against her jaw, her throat, the band of her bra. When he pulls back, it’s only to kiss her elsewhere—the tip of her nose, her brow, the corner of her mouth.

“You’re my wife,” Theron says, squeezing her thigh. “I love you. And all I want is to look after you tonight.”

All Caldis wants is to feel him. To know that she’s his, Dark Side be damned, obsession and possession and everything she feels for him, warm and expansive and so much more than Caldis could’ve dreamed.

“Okay?” asks Theron, lifting her chin. “Callie?”

All Caldis wants is to love him. To know that she is his, and he is hers, and nothing can change that, not the Order or the Force or anything that might try to separate them.

The knot of want goes taut. Caldis can’t tell where Theron ends and she begins.


End file.
